


(heaven is) A Place on Earth

by thoughtsappear



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Aging, Death, Euthanasia, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Black Mirror, M/M, Terminal Illness, character death but not really, life after death, san junipero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27394645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear
Summary: “Why are you being so nice to me?” Quentin pushed past him, the bathroom door swinging widely open and almost hitting Eliot in the face. He felt he had no choice but to follow and answer.Quentin was still running, and he made a beeline for the door. He rushed outside, where it was raining and Eliot shrugged and kept going.“I’m sorry,” Quentin said, after the two of them had stood there for a few minutes. They were soaked to the bone, and Eliot’s hair was falling into his face. It was still warm out and it only made Eliot want to take Quentin’s hand and go for a walk on the beach.“No, I’m sorry,” Eliot said. “Saturday nights once a week. I bond fast.”
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	(heaven is) A Place on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is directly inspired by the best episode of Black Mirror, San Junipero. Spoilers if you haven't seen it. This is a heavy fic, and it deals with death in a major way. I tried to tag for everything, so please check there if you have any hesitations about what to expect content-wise. 
> 
> ==  
> Many thanks to my dear friends who held my hand while working on this. Softieghost made the gorgeous banner. Emtee and Declan beta'd. Can't thank them enough.

  
[](https://imgur.com/rRVxiy0)  


Eliot had always dreamed about entering a bar or a club, and having everyone stop and stare. He liked to think they’d all put down their drinks, and the music would drop out, and all eyes would be on him. He’d made a grand entrance, and from then on, he’d be known as the life of the party, literally. The event had only been on ice until he came, but once he arrived the music would swell, people would pop bottles of champagne and the crowd would bloom around him.

These were the kind of fantasies he allowed himself. Driving fast cars, throwing ragers, living the life of a hedonistic bastard. All of it suited him just fine. Eliot loved making a first impression, and he loved entering a crowded room and commanding attention. 

This was Bacchus’s club, and it was as loud and as wild and as much fun as he had always dreamed it would be. The ceilings practically dripped with booze and everywhere he turned was a cute little twink carrying some kind of party favor. Even the music seemed perfectly curated to make him want to dance. 

In the mass of people, few stood out. To Eliot it just looked like a mass of sweaty bodies, no discernible color or gender. He let himself get swallowed up into it and enjoyed the anonymity of being one of the crowd, and the swaying of the bodies and the music was almost meditative. The bass thumped through his whole body and he closed his eyes and let it carry him away. 

Eliot danced for a few songs before opening his eyes again and really taking in his surroundings. Lights flashed in his eyes, making it hard to see any details, and his senses felt comfortably numb. But not numb enough, so he searched high and low until he found the bar, hidden in the back, manned by a bored looking blond in a black tank.

He ordered a rum and coke, even though it wasn’t what he really wanted. It went down smooth, the rum settled in his stomach and made him warm inside. His attention was caught by someone at the other end of the bar. A boy sitting alone, plain in that rather deceiving way. Deceiving because any scrutiny would reveal everything. 

He was the type of boy who didn’t think he was beautiful. He was the type of boy who tried to hide behind a messy mop of brown hair. He stuck out of the crowd because Eliot could see him trying so very hard to not be there. It was strange to him, that everyone around him, they all had chosen this club, but for some reason he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Eliot looked around to see if anyone was hanging around, a girlfriend perhaps, someone who would have dragged this poor boy out of whatever computer club basement he belonged in.

But he remained alone, nursing a drink at the bar. The lights washed his face red, then blue, then purple. He had a nervous tick of pushing his hair behind his ears when it fell in his face, which was often. Then he used the same hair to hide whenever anyone approached him, so he was constantly touching his face. It was annoying and endearing at the same time. It made Eliot want to take one of those twitchy hands and hold it still, then push the hair behind his ears himself, in the confidence that somehow the hair would behave for him when it hadn’t for his master the entire time. 

Eliot only considered his options for just a moment before he sauntered across the dance floor, the crowd parting as if by magic. He didn’t need to stand right next to the beautiful boy, but he slotted himself in right next to him anyway. Eliot ordered another drink with a snap of his fingers and waited until his new neighbor looked up from his drink. He wasn’t really a boy, but he didn’t seem to be quite a man either. There was something boyish about the way he hesitated, almost puppyish about his eyes. 

Eliot let his eyes wander, not afraid to make eye contact when his new conquest dared look right at him. He was definitely uncomfortable. Everything about him screamed that he didn't belong there, and everything about his posture was supposed to be sending people away, but instead, all of it only made Eliot want him more. 

Eliot was about to say something, hopefully charming and seductive, but instead he felt a body right behind him, and a loud voice cutting through the music and the noise of the club. He recognized his guest and didn’t even hide the disdain he could feel. He turned to deal with him and put his hands on his hips to further his reaction.

“Eliot!” Todd looked like a lost little puppy who’d followed someone home and was begging to be let in out of the rain. “There you are, didn’t you say you were gonna be at Brakebills tonight?”

“Did I say that?” Eliot said, turning back to his drink. From the corner of his eye, he could see the cute boy watching out of the corner of his eye. There might even have been a smile on his face.

“Well, that’s what your message said,” Todd was already reaching for his phone. Eliot shook his head. 

“I meant to go there but I met up with an old friend.” In an impulsive move, Eliot moved into place beside the cute boy and put an arm around him. His body jerked with surprise, relax, and then went stiff all in a matter of seconds. “I want to spend some time with him Todd, he’s only got six months to live, you know.”

“Five, actually,” the cute boy spoke up. Eliot gave his shoulder a squeeze as a silent thank you. “You must be Eliot’s friend Todd, I’m Quentin.”

What a bit of brilliance, he now knew his name. Todd was not completely useless. Todd and Quentin shook hands and finished their introductions, and then Todd stood there like a lump until Eliot sighed and pointed towards the dance floor. “Go find someone to dance with.”

The words weren’t even completely out before Todd was obeying, and Eliot loosened his grip on Quentin’s shoulder but still kept his body close.

“Good one,” he said, finishing his drink. “Only five months to live.”

Quentin shrugged, scrunching his nose in a boyish fashion. “I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“So do I,” Eliot said. “Todd has been following me around for a couple of days now, we slept together my first night here and I just don’t do sequels.”

Quentin nodded and slipped off his stool. “Glad I could help.”

“You wanna dance?” Eliot said. The song playing was nothing special, but it had a beat that one could shake their ass to, and that was all Eliot needed.

Quentin looked from the dance floor to Eliot. “Are you sure, I mean two men?”

“Of course I’m sure, and if you look out there everyone is dancing with everyone. If anybody stops to stare it will only be because of my fabulousness.” Eliot gave a little shake for emphasis. He grabbed Quentin by the wrist and pulled him out onto the floor before he could protest again. 

Eliot knew how to dance but he could tell Quentin did not. Or maybe he was just so stiff and embarrassed that he could barely lift his limbs. The music pumped through them and Eliot did his best to get Quentin engaged. He just stood there, barely even moving and during Eliot’s second spin, he was gone entirely. Eliot stopped in the middle of his dance and searched the club for a sign of him. There was movement in the men’s bathroom, and he pushed his way off the floor to follow.

Quentin was there when Eliot entered, his head halfway into a sink, splashing water on his face. It dripped onto his clothes and left wet puddles all around the sink. Eliot ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and offered it to him. Quentin let out a little groan and wiped his face.

“I don’t dance,” he said. 

“I gathered,” Eliot leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“I don’t do crowds,” Quentin said, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

“I can tell,” Eliot said. “But why did you come to Bacchus’s?”

“It’s my first night here,” Quentin turned to look at him. “It was the first place I went.”

Eliot softened. “I get it, Testing the waters. Well, we don’t have to dance, we can go somewhere else--”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Quentin pushed past him, the bathroom door swinging widely open and almost hitting Eliot in the face. He felt he had no choice but to follow and answer. 

Quentin was still running, and he made a beeline for the door. He rushed outside, where it was raining and Eliot shrugged and kept going.

“I’m sorry,” Quentin said, after the two of them had stood there for a few minutes. They were soaked to the bone, and Eliot’s hair was falling into his face. It was still warm out and it only made Eliot want to take Quentin’s hand and go for a walk on the beach. 

“No, I’m sorry,” Eliot said. “Saturday nights once a week. I bond fast.”

“I’ve never been on a dance floor before,” Quentin said. He leaned up against the wall, lifting his head to the sky. Eliot stood beside him, closer than necessary. Their arms brushed. 

Eliot didn’t want to believe it, but somehow he could. He saw a bench a few feet from the exit of the club, and sat down. It was under a red awning and would keep the worst of the rain off. When Quentin didn’t immediately sit down, he patted the space next to him. Quentin took the spot, closer than most would sit next to a stranger. Eliot looked down at Quentin’s pants and inwardly sighed. He was wearing cargo pants with huge pockets. 

“It's a party town,” Eliot said. He put his hand on Quentin’s thigh and squeezed gently. “Midnight’s coming soon.”

Quentin smiled but it was all an act that Eliot could see right through. He became stiff and pulled away from Eliot, jumping off the bench they were sharing, and beginning to stutter.

“I uh…”

“It’s okay,” Eliot said, putting his hands on his thighs, as if to show him, see, I won’t. Quentin’s skittish nature was becoming more apparent by the moment.

“No, I really--” 

Eliot reached for his cigarettes and waved one at him. “Really, it’s fine.”

“I have a fiance!” Quentin managed to say. “Her name is Alice!”

“Oh,” Eliot stood up straight and paused before lighting his smoke. “Is she here?”

Quentin shook his head. The rain began dripping into his eyes and he took a step closer to Eliot, protected by the awning. Eliot watched him for a moment. There’s always a fiance. Her name is always Alice. 

“Want to go back to my place?” Eliot did his sexiest lean, letting his eyes flit up and down Quentin’s body. 

“I never did anything like that,” Quentin said, inching closer instead of away. 

“We could be there in a snap.” Eliot snapped his fingers to complete the effect.

Was that a smile?

“I’ve got to go, I just, I can’t,” he said, looking down at his feet, every inch of him dying to get away. Eliot could see the strings being cut as he tried to make a coherent thought, but mainly he just wanted to get away. Eliot knew it was the hand, and he felt terrible, but at the same time, he didn’t feel bad because it was just San Junipero. Quentin had been sending him signals before that, and it was the common experience. A newly minted queer, gets brave for just a minute, then panics when it becomes too real. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Quentin said, extending a hand for a short and awkward handshake.

Eliot couldn’t even respond. 

Eliot watched him trip over himself in his effort to get away. Eliot looked up at the nearest clock and was relieved to see midnight wasn’t as soon as he thought, and he went to find someone to dance with and if he got desperate, and maybe Todd.

==

The second time Eliot saw Quentin was exactly a week later, in the same spot, almost as if he was part of the scenery. Eliot had already danced with a few boys, but none had really revved his engine. But there was Quentin, once again looking like he was in pain, and looking better than he had any right to be. Eliot’s engine revved and he hated himself for being so predictable. 

“Come here often?” he asked, sliding in next to him and lighting a cigarette. Quentin startled, like a jumpy rabbit and then relaxed, the curves of his lips turning up into a hint of a smile. Eliot got more from that look then he got from a bathroom handy from Todd any time at Tucker’s.

“Hey,” he said, brushing that long hair out of his face. “I’m glad you came.”

“I come here every Saturday, remember?”

“Oh duh, you told me that.” Quentin’s face scrunched up in a truly endearing frown. “I just didn’t think--”

“It’s fine,” Eliot said, blowing out smoke in the gap between them. “Did you come to dance this week?”

“No,” Quentin shook his head. “I came to see you.”

That was like ice in Eliot’s blood. He did his best to shake it off, with a hand through his hair. He took a long drag of his cigarette instead of replying. 

“Make this easy for me,” Quentin said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Want to get in my car?” 

“Let’s get out of here,” Quentin said. His sudden courage was admirable, even if it wasn’t believable. 

There was a cottage on the beach that Eliot had found in one of his drives around the town. It had a large open window that led directly to the beach. It was the kind of house Eliot had dreamed about but never been able to experience. Quentin marveled at the place, his eyes going wide at the assortment of candles already lit beside the bed. It was the kind of bed that belonged in some kind of romantic trash novel. Covered in white blankets with a billowing canopy. It was perfect. They’d barely kicked open the doors before they were kissing. Eliot had latched his mouth to Quentin’s neck and was enjoying the way he went boneless. He took his time, trying different things. It was only after he threaded his fingers into Quentin’s long hair and gave it a little tug that he noticed how overwhelmed Quentin was. Quentin’s whole body trembled, and Eliot stopped and let him breathe for a moment. He sat down on the bed to give him some more space.

“Are you a virgin?” Eliot asked.

“No!” Quentin protested louder than necessary. “I’m just…”

“Making your parents mad? I get it.” Eliot threw his vest on the floor and kicked his shoes off under the bed.

“I make a lot of parents mad,” Eliot added. He came around to stand behind Quentin. He was the perfect height for Eliot to rest his chin on top of his head. His neck smelled faintly of Irish Spring. 

“I’m not, it’s just,” Quentin was doing his stuttering again. Eliot hadn’t decided if it was better to let him work through it or help him out.

“I’ve never been with a man before,” he finally spat out, directing his words toward the small pile of clothes Eliot had begun to create. 

“Oh honey,” Eliot put his hands on Quentin’s waist and was intrigued by the muscle hiding under that unfortunate sweater. “I know.”

“You have to show me what to do,” Quentin pressed back up against him and Eliot felt almost lightheaded. 

How could he make something like that so sexy? Eliot discovered his awkwardness and nerves were only a front for his intense desire to please. He tugged Quentin out of his clothes, even though they both knew it wasn’t necessary. Undressing had always been part of the fun for Eliot, he loved the seduction and the mystery. 

Quentin was hiding a nice body under his shapeless attire. He wasn’t as buff as most of the men at San Junipero, but there was strength and power in his physique. He wasn’t shaved or waxed, just slightly hairy and he had a tattoo on his back that was extremely hot. An ornate Q done in shades of black. Way too hot to be cooped up under that knit. Didn’t he know this was a beach town?

It wasn’t until he had Quentin on his back and they were panting between kisses, bodies already locked together like they’d been making love for years, that he took a moment to look out the window and saw the waves crashing on the sand. 

He was hit by a sudden heaviness, a thick feeling settled into his bones. Quentin was holding onto him for dear life, panting Eliot’s name, overwhelmed. Eliot felt responsible for him in a way he’d never experienced. In another life, he could. 

Eliot didn’t say anything, instead he concentrated on creating waves of pleasure to match the cadence of the waves outside. He put a hand behind Quentin’s head to cradle it as he threw his head back against the pillows. Quentin’s eyes opened and he focused his attention so tightly on Eliot it was almost overwhelming. 

Eliot closed his eyes and tried not to think about the way the look in Quentin’s eyes mirrored so many other eyes he’d looked into over the last few months. Quentin was just another boy. Just another boy in San Junipero. With a fiance, and a family. This town was only a vacation for all of them. 

==

Eliot slipped in and out of sleep, only noticing when Quentin moved or when he pulled the sheets over, leaving Eliot’s left side naked and exposed. At some point they’d let the ocean breezes in, and the room smelled like salt, with an undercurrent of sex and sweat. He wondered what this place would look like in the day time, what it might be like to wake up in a house by the beach, and walk barefoot in the sand while the sun came up. 

“It’s almost time,” Quentin said, when he noticed Eliot sitting up in bed. Eliot wasn’t sure how he knew, there was no clock in the room, and he wasn’t wearing a watch. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his knees hugged to his chest. His back was to Eliot. Eliot tried to guess his reaction from the sound of his voice, and from the way he seemed to be trying to fold himself into nothing. 

“Is something wrong?” Eliot stood up and walked to the open window. There was no point in getting dressed now. 

“No,” Quentin relaxed his arms and rolled onto his stomach. “I was just wondering…”

Eliot let the fresh air coax him to full alertness. He felt like this night had stretched for several lifetimes and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

Eliot turned to face him and waited for Quentin to ask. He didn’t have to tell him it was alright to finish his thought. Quentin would have to come to that conclusion himself.

“Was it okay?” Quentin finally said, his face tucked into a pillow. 

Eliot stepped away from the open window and crossed the room to sit down beside him. He pulled Quentin against his chest and waited until they were facing each other. 

“It was more than okay,” he said, kissing Quentin’s forehead. He then realized maybe that wasn’t the best way to comfort someone who’d given you their first blowjob just hours prior. So he kissed his mouth to cement the reassurance.

“How did you know?” Quentin asked. Eliot wanted to play dumb, but he knew what he was asking.

“I’m drawn to boys like you,” Eliot said. “I have a gift.”

Quentin giggled and nuzzled his shoulder. Eliot closed his eyes and counted backward, trying not to memorize the way it felt to hold someone again. 

Everything felt like it had a timer ticking down. 

==

Eliot was dancing with some girls in a new club two weeks later when he saw Quentin again. Someone else might call it hiding. But Eliot refused to listen. He just wanted to visit a new club. Why shouldn’t he get to see new things, meet new people. 

He and one of the girls were laughing and holding hands when he saw someone coming up behind her. It was Quentin, dressed all in black with his tuft of hair pulled back tight in a bun. Eliot just kept laughing. 

“Oh hi,” he said. “Would you like to dance with us?”

Quentin shook his head and Eliot edged him out of the group. Eliot could feel the proverbial daggers being flung at his back.

“Eliot,” Quentin grabbed his arm and tried to pull him closer. “Can we--”

“I told you I don’t do sequels,” Eliot said, eyes on the dance floor. He concentrated on the steps.

The music drowned out anything he might have said back. Eliot kept dancing until he no longer felt Quentin’s eyes on his back. 

Eliot wiped sweat off his brow and excused himself from the dancefloor. Out of the corner he saw Quentin flanked by people at a table. They were talking and laughing and Quentin did not join them. Eliot couldn’t believe someone so surrounded could still be so alone. 

He let out a sigh and the guilt started to creep in. He’d done his best to avoid Quentin because this was exactly what he knew would happen. Quentin had tracked him down anyway, and in his attempt to stay detached, he’d pushed Quentin harder than necessary. 

He started to walk over to where Quentin was, but when Quentin realized Eliot was on the way, he bolted from the table and hurried outside. Eliot followed, rushing outside and seeing a mostly empty street.

A man and woman were making out in the alley and although Eliot knew it was a fruitless notion, he asked anyway.

“Did you two see a man in black run out here?” 

The man decoupled long enough to shake his head, and Eliot decided to flip an internal coin and go right. 

At the end of the alley he hit a dead end. No Quentin. 

He retraced his steps and went left this time, still no Quentin. Maybe he went home. Maybe he went to another club. Eliot wasn’t sure he wanted to go on a wild goose chase after a guy he wasn’t even sure he liked that much.

He looked up at the clock in the plaza. He still had plenty of time to spend there. He was in the process of turning to go back inside when he realized there was something on top of the building directly across from the clock. A figure on top of a roof.

Eliot didn’t think before he dashed up the stairs. 

Quentin was standing perfectly still, staring off into the distance. Eliot hated heights and he felt a pit in his stomach as he walked across the roof, heading towards where Quentin was holding onto the edge. A cool breeze made their hair flutter and Eliot shivered.

“Did you turn your pain receptors off?” Eliot asked him, taking a seat on the roof and trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“There was a building like this where I grew up. I used to test myself.” Quentin hugged himself as if he were cold. 

“I never jumped but I wanted to,” Quentin said. He looked down at the ground beneath them and he didn’t seem scared at all. 

“What would happen?” Eliot wondered. “We can’t die. It wouldn't hurt. Would we just get up again?”

“Yes.”

“But I wouldn’t do it anyway. I’m a little scared of heights,” Eliot admitted. “I don’t want to do that in San Junipero. I don’t want that to be a memory.”

“Sometimes I just wanted it all to stop,” Quentin said. “I didn’t think this place would be like that. I thought it would be different.”

“It is different,” Eliot said, reaching toward Quentin. “I promise.”

Quentin laughed, a bitter edge on it. He kept his eyes on the ground. “So far it’s been exactly the same as everywhere else.”

Eliot put his hand on Quentin’s arm. “Please, come down with me, okay?”

Quentin looked down at the hand on his arm like he wasn’t sure who it belonged to. Then he followed the arm up to Eliot’s shoulder and all the way to his face. He saw the raw fear of Eliot’s expression. The bitterness in him seemed to subside.

“Okay,” he said, and got up from the ledge.

==

They found themselves in the beach side house again. Quentin had a new awareness of his body, a confidence in his limbs. He was kissing with an invigorated passion and Eliot wondered if it was from the roof or something less obvious was at work here. 

They couldn’t sleep after, and what was the point, so they put on their robes and boxers and walked the beach.

“We never would have met without San Junipero,” Quentin said. His hair was blowing in the wind and his feet were sinking into the wet sand. 

“I don’t know,” Eliot tried to joke.

“What are you like in real life?” Quentin asked.

“Pretty much the same.” Eliot could feel the lie stick in his throat and tried to swallow it down.

“If you met me in real life,” Quentin stared into the sea, not letting Eliot break his focus even for a minute. “You wouldn't like me.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Eliot plopped down on the sand next to him. “Where are you?”

Quentin shook his head. Eliot nudged him. “I could look you up. I’m in upstate new york.”

“I’m in Jersey.”

“That’s next door. Can I come to visit?”

Quentin appeared to be considering, Eliot could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. Finally he gave a little shrug.

“I’ll come on Tuesday,” Eliot said. 

They sat on the beach until midnight.

==

Eliot leaned heavy on his cane as he exited the van. It hadn’t taken much to get Fray to agree to make the drive. She was usually agreeable to his ideas and he promised to reimburse her for the stay.

“Mr. Waugh?”

“Yes.” A young woman was standing a few feet from the door. 

“I’m Dr. Wicker, one of Quentin’s doctors,” she explained. “Let me show you the way.”

Eliot followed her, noticing her steps growing slower as she realized he couldn’t keep the pace. He didn’t take offense at it, doctors walked fast and were always in a hurry. He knew Fray would help him catch up if he got too far behind.

She led him into an elevator, and pressed the button for the 5th floor. 

When the doors opened, Eliot staggered out, and Julia pointed down a long hallway. “His room is all the way at the end, on the right. I have some other patients to see, but there should be nurses around if you need anything. Have a nice day Mr. Waugh.”

Eliot began walking down the hallway, Fray right at his side. He was reading the signs, taking in the surroundings. It was a drab hospital, not unlike the community senior home he was living in. He saw a sign “long term care” and then another set of rooms, smaller and even more drab.

There it was, at the end of the hall. A white room with a white door and a tiny window. “Q. Coldwater” stuck on the wall with peeling tape. Eliot steadied himself and pushed it open.

“Hello,” said a woman in the room. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Eliot hardly acknowledged her, cause he was still focused on Quentin. He knew it would be jarring to see Quentin in real life, seeing him as he really was, as an elderly man instead of a twenty something. There he was, lying motionless in a hospital bed, machines coming and going from every angle, and his eyes fixed on nothing. 

“You can talk to him,” she said. “He can’t talk back but he likes hearing people’s voices.”

Eliot took a step further and slipped into a chair Fray pushed next to the hospital bed. “It’s me, it’s Eliot.”

Quentin didn’t react as he expected. Without looking at the nurse, he reached over for Quentin’s limp hand and squeezed it. “Can we be alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course, Mr. Waugh,” she said.

Eliot sat there for a few minutes, talking to Quentin, in a way talking to himself, and holding Quentin’s hand. He used the arms of the chair to push up and lean towards the head of the bed, carefully planting a kiss on Quentin’s cheek.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a new voice came from behind him. “It’s time for his meds.”

Eliot lowered himself into the chair and watched the woman push a tray inside. She worked quickly, inserting a syringe into one of his IVs and then noting his vital signs on an electronic tablet she carried in her scrubs. It was when she replaced the tablet that he noticed a nametag on her right breast.

Alice.

“You’re Alice?”

She smiled and patted her name tag as if she wasn’t sure how he knew. “Yes, and you’re Eliot right?”

She fixed him with a stare. Without a smile curling the corners of her lips, she might have scared him. “You must have questions. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Fray helped him to the hospital cafe on the second floor, ordered him a green tea and pushed in his chair. Alice sat down across from him drinking what smelled like burnt french roast. His nose curled in disgust and remembrance. Bad coffee always reminded him of hospitals.

“You’re the fiance,” he said.

Alice laughed, but there was work behind it. Everything soft about her seemed to be sharpened to a hard edge, her blonde hair straight as a pin, kind eyes set behind thick glasses, a womanly figure masked with square navy blue scrubs. 

“That’s the first time anyone has called me that.”

Eliot sipped at his tea, wishing he could have some honey. “May I ask what happened?”

Alice sighed and tapped her fingers on the table. “Well, Quentin had a history of depression. He spent some time in facilities as a teenager. Then he didn’t get into Yale and his father got sick with cancer, all in the same year. He attempted suicide a few times, went back into treatment, and then in 2018 his father died and his best friend stopped talking to him. He tried to kill himself again but, well you see what happened. His mother didn’t want to give up hope, and put him here. Unfortunately she died a few years after and now his grandparents are in charge of his medical decisions. They are these fanatical religious types and they won’t allow him to be taken off life support. But that can be overridden by a spouse.”

Eliot smiled but he also felt sick. “Hence the wedding.” 

Alice nodded. “The chaplain is coming tomorrow. I’ll sign the wedding license at 9 and they’ll do the upload at 1. Short marriage but it’s what he wants.”

“Yeah.” Eliot sipped his tea. An idea curled around his brain and started to take hold. “Could we go up and use the system? I just want to talk to him for a couple minutes.”

“I don’t know,” Alice glanced nervously at the other tables. “It’s not your time.”

“Five minutes tops,” Eliot said. He mustered all the charm he’d carried with him for the last fifty years and smiled at her. “Please?”

Alice pushed her glasses up her nose. “Five minutes and that’s all, Mr.Waugh.”

He offered his gnarled hand to her and she took it, helping him out of the chair.

==

“El, I’m sorry!” Quentin was standing at the beach, water lapping around his ankles. “I should have told--”

“Shut up,” Eliot said, grabbing his hands. “I talked to Alice, she explained everything but just shut up. We don’t have much time.”

He didn’t have a ring. He didn’t have a clue. He knelt in the sand in front of Quentin, bracing himself as a wave hit him in the back. “Alice seems pretty great but why not marry someone you’ve actually connected with?”

“I can’t ask you--”

“I’m asking _you_ , you cock. Will you marry me?”

Quentin laughed and knelt in the sand across from him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Eliot kissed him and they laughed as the wave hit them. Eliot scrambled to his feet and pulled Quentin off the shoreline and picked him up, bridal style, the two of them giggling all the while.

==

Eliot paused with his stylus above the tablet. He studied the words, making sense of them in his own way, Quentin’s words. All he had to do was scribble his name across the space marked “spouse.” He never thought he’d be a spouse. In the morning he’d signed a marriage license. Now he was doing his first and last favor for his husband. 

Quentin Makepeace Coldwater. His full name. Eliot hadn’t even known his middle name until now. Now they would be saying goodbye. 

Eliot glanced across the room at Quentin, who lay motionless in his hospital bed. For the hundredth time that day, Eliot wanted to see him smile. He returned to his document. Alice and Dr. Wicker were watching from the other side of the window. 

He signed his name in two quick scribbles, tapped in the date and noted the time. He handed the tablet back to the lawyer, who added her own signature. Eliot took his seat beside Quentin and took his hand.

“Are you ready?” Dr. Wicker asked.

Eliot kept his eyes on Quentin. In his years at the retirement village, he’d watched a couple of friends be permanently uploaded to the system, yet it still seemed so strange to him. It was such a clinical process and yet there was so much going on under the surface. 

Dr. Wicker began ticking off the machines in the room. Quentin showed no reaction to anything being done to him, and Eliot instinctively squeezed tighter, as if he could protect him from the pain. Although Quentin had been trapped in the prison of his body for so long, a little pain might actually be a nice change of pace.

Once all the machines were quiet, she placed the upload link on Quentin’s temple. Alice came forward with a tablet, and Eliot knew she was controlling the connection, and essentially downloading all of Quentin’s conscientiousness, and then she would upload him permanently to San Junipero.

Eliot kept his focus on Quentin, and in a moment of tenderness he couldn’t suppress, he kissed him, finding his lips dry. When he pulled back and scrunched into his chair, Dr. Wicker patted him on the shoulder and then moved to check Quentin’s chest with a stethoscope. All this technology and she still used such an ancient tool.

“Time of death,” Dr. Wicker noted, a break in her voice Eliot knew wasn’t supposed to be there. “1:09 pm.”

==

Quentin was laughing. His hair was wet and he was soaked. He reminded Eliot of a boy who’d spent all day in the sun, swimming until his legs were so tired he could barely walk. Perhaps he had.

“This is the best day of my life,” he told Eliot as he ran into the beachside cottage. “It’s all because of you.”

Eliot laughed and let out a little grunt as he was suddenly welcomed with a heavy pile of boy in his lap. Quentin kissed him and the joy in that gesture reminded Eliot it was all worth it. 

“I can’t wait until you get to stay here all the time too,” Quentin said between kisses.

Eliot’s insides locked up upon the realization. It was one of the many things they’d yet to discuss. 

“Q,” he said. “I never told you I was going to be permanently uploaded.”

At first Quentin didn’t seem bothered. “I must have assumed.”

“Hey,” Eliot forced him to stop. “I'm not.”

That did break him out of his delirium. “Why not, you love it here?”

Eliot arranged Quentin carefully, so that they were still holding each other, but so that they could see each other’s faces. “So I grew up in a small town, and as you can imagine, being like this was a bit of a...problem. As soon as I had two bucks to rub together, I moved out for school, and it was there that I met Margo. School ended up not being worth it, but Margo was worth it. She was the kind of friend that few ever have. She was my world. We made one of those dumb pacts, you know, if you’re not married by the time you’re 50, we’d get married. Sometimes I thought we just might. But anyway.”

Eliot pushed a strand of Quentin’s hair back. “She got sick when she was in her late forties. One day she was fine and then the next, she was throwing up everything she ate, and her hair was falling out. For a year I watched this beautiful funny and vibrant woman die in front of me. She died way too young. And the upload system didn’t come out until fifteen years later.”

“So because she didn’t get a chance, you don’t either?” Quentin asked. 

“It’s not that simple, but yes.”

“Eliot, that’s so stupid. Don’t you think she would want you to do this?”

“I don’t want to do it without her,” Eliot said. Quentin got up and walked outside, flinging open the door to the beach. Eliot sighed and picked himself up.

“It’s different for you,” Eliot said to Quentin’s back. “You’ve been in suspended animation, you haven’t really lived--”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Quentin whipped his head around. “Every time I would try to kill myself, I’d think that next time would be better. It was never better, and then suddenly, it was nothing. I finally was ready to live, but I couldn’t.”

“Can’t we just stop?” Eliot said. “I don’t want to spend two hours a night fighting about this when we could be having fun.”

For a moment, it actually seemed like Quentin had accepted that, but then he looked down at his feet and frowned. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“There’s a lot I didn’t tell you.” Eliot dug his foot into the sand. “We’ve only known each other a couple of days. I only married you so you could--”

He had a variety of ways to finish the sentence, but none seemed right.

“So I could die,” Quentin said, spitting the words out. “Just say it El. You felt bad for me.”

“I do feel bad for you, I feel so fucking shitty that you laid in the hospital bed for years and years and no one did anything for you, that all it took was a few clicks of a button and a pen and you were released. That no one thought to do it for you until now.”

“You did that for me,” Quentin said, trying to wrap his arms around Eliot. “You saved me. You saved me here, you saved me there. Please stay with me, I need you.”

Eliot let his head rest against Quentin’s for a moment. “You don’t need me. If it wasn’t me it would be someone else, you’re just the virgin I felt sorry for.”

“You married me,” Quentin said, pulling away.

“I did you a favor. That’s all,” Eliot pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 

Quentin walked away, pulling his clothes off until he was at the water’s edge. The waves were crashing hard against the shore, and his feet sunk into the wet sand. 

“I don’t owe you anything!” Eliot shouted. 

Quentin’s body shuddered like he’d been hit, and he walked deeper into the water. It was up to his waist in only a few feet. Eliot just watched him, smoking a cigarette he didn’t even want. Smoking in San Junipero used to be fun since he wasn’t allowed to do it in real life, just like so many other things.

When Quentin didn’t come back after a few minutes of treading water, Eliot left. He walked back to the beach house, and took the convertible. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor, taking the San Junipero roads at speeds he’d never even attempted in real life. He just wanted to crash the car into a wall and be done with it. Who even cared? He was dying. He was married to a dead man. Margo was dead and would never be here, and Eliot would be alone no matter what. 

He glanced at the car radio as he revved the engine,it was midnight.

He closed his eyes.

==

“Why don’t you want to visit San Junipero anymore, Mr. Waugh?” Fray asked. 

Eliot’s body ached all the time. He was starting to forget what day it was, or what month. The amount of medication he was taking per day had tripled, and food had lost all luster for him. A part of him ached to go back, and feel again. Feel something other than this slow descent into a shell of a person.

But he couldn't bear to see Quentin right now. Any physical pain he felt wouldn’t come close to how ashamed he’d be to run into his husband. 

Husband. Jesus. Margo would have gotten such a kick out of that.

“I don’t feel like it,” he told Fray. “Can we take a day trip tomorrow?”

Fray seemed a bit surprised by his request. Since he’d left the hospital, he hadn’t asked to go anywhere for a few weeks. He’d shut himself in his room, and spent most of his time looking at old pictures and watching movies in bed. 

“Of course,” she said. “Where?”

“It’s a bit of a jaunt,” Eliot said. “You’ll probably need time to prepare.”

He reached into a drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it over.

Fray read the address on the paper, and smiled. “Of course Mr. Waugh. Just give me the afternoon, then we can go tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you Fray.”

“But, there is one thing you need to do for me,” she said, hands on her scrubs. “When the lunch cart comes by, you must eat a bowl of soup for me, or I’ll cancel everything. And you can’t fake me out, I’ve got eyes on every corner.”

Eliot grunted but nodded. Despite not wanting to be controlled, he would need to eat something, no matter how disgusting to have the strength for this trip.

Fray came through, like she always did, and the next afternoon, he was being driven to a quiet cemetery on a hill. He was wobbly on his cane, and the walk had him breathless by the end, but he was still a stubborn son of a bitch and he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. 

“Can I have the flowers, Fray?” his voice barely sounded like him, so strained and growly. Fray handed him the bouquet and stepped back, giving him space.

Eliot leaned hard on his cane as he carefully placed the flowers in front of the headstone.

_Margo Fontaine Hanson_

“Hey Bambi,” he said, struggling to stand, before using the stone to steady himself. “I’ve been a bad friend. I kept meaning to come visit, but I’m not exactly light on my feet these days.”

“Still, I should have been here.” He noticed that the plot was maintained, the grass uniform and neat, the headstones visible. It gave him some comfort knowing that someone was taking care of her. 

He took a moment to consider what he wanted to say, despite the fact he’d been practicing it in his head for a few days already.

“So, I got married. No ring. His name’s Quentin. I think you’d like him. He’s the type of guy you always wanted me to find. He’d be terrified of you, and probably a little bit in love. But we’d have fun.”

Tears were beginning to come to his eyes. “I promised you I wouldn’t get uploaded to San Junipero. But Bambi, that was twenty years ago. Remember you promised me you wouldn’t watch the season finale of Project Runway without me and you did anyway? I forgave you then.”

He began to laugh. “Listen to me, comparing a fucking tv show to this. I’m such a piece of shit.”

“I know I never told him I would stay,” Eliot said. “He just assumed. This whole situation is not normal. If I had met him any other time, if you were still here, if he hadn’t made me fall in love with him.”

Eliot sighed and stared hard at the words in front of him, letting his eyes follow the M over and over. 

“I guess, I’m asking for you to let me break this promise. I know it's not the same as any of the other promises I broke, or any of the ones we broke to each other. It’s so much bigger and I just wish..”

Eliot felt heavy on his feet, and the world began to get blurry. He really needed to sit down and drink something. He steadied himself, using his cane to bear the brunt of the weight. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die soon. And I want to believe that I’ll see you again, but there’s another part of me that knows I’m not. I can’t leave Q now. I love you Margo. I miss you every day.”

He kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to her name. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried in vain to snuff out any remaining tears. When he thought he had everything together, he balanced carefully on his cane and started to walk away.

“Fray?”

“Coming,” she said, already running up behind him. “You look a little winded, Mr. Waugh, let's get you to the car.”

On the drive back to the retirement home, Eliot tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m redoing my will tomorrow. You’ve been so kind to me, even when I’ve been a complete asshole. I know you don’t have a lot of money and I’ve seen that heap you drive. I’m gonna make you the sole beneficiary. I’m leaving everything to you.”

“Oh, Mr. Waugh,” Fray’s face was pinched. “I can’t.”

“Hush, I have no children, no family and I’ve sold everything that’s worth even a penny. These last few years my expenses have been paid off. I want the money to go to someone who needs it, and someone I care about.”

Fray was very still and she cut her eyes across at him, a pat on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s not much, just my savings and some stocks I bought when I was trying to play the wall street game. Probably around 350k.”

“Shit,” Fray gasped. “Mr. Waugh, my husband and I don’t even make half of that in a year.”

“Then I know I’ve made the right decision.”

==

Eliot spoke with his attorney the very next day. Within minutes, the documents had been sent to his tablet, and he’d signed them all but one. Every time he opened the last form, he became overwhelmed. 

“Do you want to visit tonight?” Fray asked. She was holding the uplink device in her hands. Eliot hesitated, his finger still hovering over the “intent to upload” permission form.

“Yes,” he said. Fray smiled and helped him get comfortable.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was in San Junipero. After requesting his car, he drove to the beach house, hoping to see Quentin. No one was there. He drove to the bars and the stores, asking for him, but no one had seen him. Eliot was starting to wonder if he’d decided to go somewhere else, it was an option. He walked the streets of San Junipero for nearly an hour before he was ready to give up.

He was standing in front of the old style movie theater, trying to decide what to do next when he heard a voice calling his name. 

Quentin was standing there, holding a half eaten tub of popcorn, eyes squinting as he adjusted to the change in the light. 

“I’d never seen Raiders on a big screen,” he supplied.

“Cool,” Eliot said. They faced each other in a silent standoff. There was too much to say but neither wanted to start. A moment passed and they each looked in the opposite directions to break the tension. Eliot decided blunt and honest was the way to go. 

“I’m passing over,” Eliot said. “I made all the arrangements today.”

“Oh,” Quentin’s face went sad. “So you’re saying goodbye.”

“Kind of,” Eliot said. “I had to say goodbye to someone else first.”

Quentin looked at him strangely, and Eliot reached over and took his popcorn bucket, tossing it into the closest trash. Quentin let out a squeak of surprise then it was swallowed by Eliot pressing their lips together.

==

"Are you ready?" Dr. Hoberman asked him. 

Eliot looked around the room and felt an overwhelming amount of sadness. He'd always imagined he'd die surrounded by friends and family, but here he was in a drab nursing home with a doctor, nurse and his only living friend, a woman who was basically paid to wipe his ass and hand him his cane.

There was nothing left for him here.

Fray was sniffling into her tissue, which made him feel bad. She'd been his rock through this, and somehow she was still a complete stranger.

"Yes," he told the doctor. The paperwork was signed, the tools were laid out in front of him like a macabre buffet. A syringe, a few metal implements and the software for the upload.

He'd asked one special request, that his body be interred in the plot next to Margo's. It felt like the best compromise. He'd stay with Margo as close as he could.

"Okay Mr. Waugh," Dr. Hoberman said. He was adjusting Eliot's IV, and he motioned at the nurse. "We'll start the upload and then as soon as it finishes, we'll push the euthanizing agent."

"Do you have any final requests?" Fray asked, sniffling from across the room.

"Yes," Eliot said. "There's a bottle of scotch hidden in my sock drawer. I want you and the other nurses to toast me tonight."

Fray smiled. "It's not hidden, Mr. Waugh. Everyone knows about it. We just let you keep it. But yes, we will."

Eliot huffed and laid back down. "Then I guess that's goodbye."

The nurse placed the nodules on his temple to start the upload. It didn't feel like every other time he'd visited San Junipero. A heavy sense of foreboding seemed to permeate the room. 

"Okay," the nurse said, picking up her tablet. "Count down from 10."

Eliot took one last shuddering breath and did as he was asked. "10."

"9."

He closed his eyes. He could hear the shuffling of the doctor, Fray's quiet crying, and the slow beeping of his machines. 

"8."

The room was silent, the world was dark.

"7."

He opened his eyes and stumbled over feet that hadn't been touching the ground a moment ago. It was a shock, the way arriving in San Junipero always was. The feeling of relief was immediate. The lack of pain so distinct, the sudden ability to stand up straight, the strength in his body felt good, and powerful.

He was a man of thirty again. 

He looked down and realized with amusement and excitement that there was no timer running on this. He would never be a frail old man struggling to walk again. 

He was wearing his default outfit, the one he'd selected the first time he'd visited. His party outfit, and he felt a bit overdressed for the day and yet he couldn't imagine anything else.

As he stood there, marveling about his new found freedom, a black Subaru pulled up next to him.

Quentin. His husband. 

"Hey, I heard if you go up north there's a really gorgeous ski resort," Quentin said, poking his head out the window. "Honeymoon on ice?"

Eliot just smiled and slipped into the passenger seat. Quentin leaned over and kissed him, the kiss of a man with no regrets. Eliot kissed back. 

"We should get there just in time for breakfast," Quentin said, pushing the car into gear. 

Eliot had never seen the sun come up in San Junipero. He’d never seen the seasons change, never left the comfort of the beach city.

As Quentin drove the car into the mountains, Eliot felt a chill in the air. He watched as the snow began to fall. He got Quentin’s attention and used his finger to draw a heart in the fog on his window. Quentin was focused on the road, but he looked away long enough to grab Eliot’s hand and give it a good squeeze

“I’m ready,” Eliot said with a happy sigh.

“For what?” Quentin asked. 

“For the rest of it.”


End file.
